


Into The Jaws

by junichiblue



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Being tracked and wanted for murder, Biting, Bloodlust, Darkness and storms and weird dreams, Eerie Shit, Forest Sex, Gay Sex, Grimmjow being confused and hungry, Grimmjow losing his shit over Ichigo, IC Ichigo and IC Grimmjow, Ichigo bringing powerful Grimmjow to his knees... sexually, Loss of Control, Lust, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Obsession, Stalking, Villages with secrets, fucking against a tree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junichiblue/pseuds/junichiblue
Summary: His family murdered, his life wanted, Ichigo has been on the run for weeks. All he has is his faithful horse and the will to keep on moving. Seeking shelter from the heat and desperate to find water in this unknown forest, Ichigo is almost out of time when he stumbles onto a hidden village with a dark and bloody secret. Grimmichi - Vampires/Yaoi





	1. Chapter 1

_**Better Run Through The Jungle (CCR)** _

Whoa, thought it was a nightmare, **  
**Lo, it's all so true,  
They told me, "Don't go walkin' slow  
'Cause Devil's on the loose."  
  
Better run through the jungle,  
Better run through the jungle,  
Better run through the jungle,  
Whoa, Don't look back to see.

 

“You and me both, buddy.”

The young man sighed as his too-lean muscles ached in protest, fists curled around the hard earth-worn leather straps that bound his wrists to tightening reigns. His core shook as the wide body under him moved over a patch of uneven ground, and he gripped the reigns for all his worth. But it wasn't enough to keep him steady.

He swore aloud, barely saving himself from an ungainly catapult and a merciless landing into to the hard, kiln dried earth that was his path, when Zangetzu repeated his gruff complaint loud and clear, and came to a dead stop.

Under the tiredweight of his hooves, dry sticks and even drier leaves snapped and crunched in an empty, hollow tribute to the hefty weight of a hard earned life. Zangetsu snorted his frustration for the umpteenth time and shook his head side to side almost violently, long black strands of hair cascading down his lean neck, causing just enough of a breeze against his skin to tease but not quite cool him.

“Alright. Alright. I'm getting down. Don't be such a nag.”

The last word prompted an affronted whinny and a single, heavy foot stomp.

It was the exact response Kurosaki Ichigo expected from his sable-haired stallion, as he attempted to dismount the steed as gracefully as one would expect from a man who was nearing exhaustion and probably suffering heat stroke on top of dehydration.

Ichigo swung his leg over the broad back end of his horse and stumbled as his right foot hit the ground. He grumbled, trying to keep his balance on one shaking leg while his left foot remained stubbornly caught up in the stirrup. Ichigo swore and tugged once, one hand braced against his horse's solid, stubble haired hind quarters, the other reaching to grab the strap. He teetered like a scrawny evergreen ready to fall, as he fought to free his foot.

Zangetsu's long neck craned around, and the beast watched its owner's strange antics with mild interest, a thin ray of sunlight illuminating large chocolate eyes. If he'd had a proper eyebrow to raise, he would have. As it were, he cocked one ear back, just as effective an expression if Ichigo had looked up to see it.

Ichigo tugged again, harder this time. There was the briefest of pauses. And then he yelped as the old, worn-out piece of leather attached to the metal foot-rest finally gave way under the strain, and broke, sending the unprepared rider careening backwards, arms windmilling.

Zangetsu stood calmly and flicked an overlong ear as he regarded his strange keeper who now lay sprawled on the ground. What appeared to be a valiant attempt at flight had gotten the young man nowhere, and he had landed harder than hard on his flea-bitten ass.

“Shit! Nnghh!” Ichigo clutched with not quite touching fingers at his tailbone as he arched in pain. “Goddamn... sonofa...!”

One long ear flicked back like a sharp rebuke before coming back up to a tall, brown, condescension. Zangetsu gave a single hard snort.

“You're one to talk,” he grunted up at him through grit teeth. “Don't think I don't know what you're saying in that horse voice of yours.”

Ichigo scowled up at the stallion who towered above him. Zangetsu, or Zan as he was usually referred to with affection, whinnied and rocked his head up and down, mane dancing, clearly pleased with the show his master was putting on for him.

“Oh, you think that's funny do you?” Ichigo drawled, cocking his head to the side as he sat on the dusty ground, trying not to wince in front of his horse any more than he had to. He moved to get up, then hissed out another curse. The ground wasn't as soft as it looked. And it didn't look soft at all. His ass was already sore and no doubt bore unsightly bruises from many hours of sitting throughout the long arduous journey and navigating the rough terrain of the country side.

Zan nodded again, and despite himself, Ichigo's scowl soften into a somber smiled. At least Zan was happy, and that was something to be grateful for. Ichigo hadn't had much to smile about for awhile now, and he'd take just about any reason he could get at this point to let himself feel something other than anger or dread, or loneliness. He was surprised he even had any sort of humour left about him at all after the last few weeks.

He slowly dragged his sorry self up from the cracked clay earth, and smacked the powdery dirt from the back of his pants with the calloused palm of his hand. The dust hit his throat and he coughed.

It hadn't rained more than a spit in weeks, and the whole country side was ready to go up like a box of kindling.

So was Ichigo's throat. By the Gods, he was thirsty. It hadn't rained at all in days, and water had been scarce. He'd been downing his last full container of water only a few hours ago when he had realized Zangetsu was nearly panting. He hadn't had the heart to deny his old friend the relief he so dearly deserved. And it made as much sense to keep his horse hydrated as it did himself, especially since Zan was the one doing all the work.

Without Zan, Ichigo might as well have been a carcass on the side of the road.

He owed his old friend his life many times over. After all, he'd only narrowly escaped with it.

It had been, what... three weeks, maybe less. Didn't matter really. Nothing mattered now but putting as much space between them and that town as they could. As fast as they could.

The two of them had bolted, leaving behind the tattered and tragic remains of Ichigo's life. After one, definitive night of horror, nothing remained, and that was the fine point of it.  
  
Ever since then, they'd been on the move, taking refuge in the hilly countryside far off the travelled road.

One horse, past his prime, and one teenage boy, barely a man. Putting as much distance as they could between them and the place he used to call home.

Ichigo stared long and hard back down the path they'd come, watching for ghosts, listening to the birds speak and the trees whisper.

They were being followed.

Their departure had been hasty. His family, murdered. The townspeople, screaming for his blood. Still in shock from the murders and the growing dark allegations, he'd left in the middle of the night, with only a few scraps of food, water, some coins, and the clothes on his back.

Ichigo looked to the sky, to the large patches of blue that he could see between the canopy above. He didn't have a timepiece, but he guessed it was past the dinner hour. Scattered shadows stretched across the path he'd followed as they worked their way downward, into the valley, and hopefully, towards water. He had at best a few hours to reach his goal. If they didn't find water before the sun set... well... Ichigo really didn't want to think about that.

Ichigo grimaced and ran the back of his bare arm across his forehead, no doubt leaving a line of dirt there in the process. That had been his luck of late, so why not?

Whatever. Dirt would only serve to act as camouflage. That would be a good thing. Too bad it didn't keep out the heat. They'd been trudging along for almost the entire day, trying to stick to the shadowed animal paths to avoid the suppressing heat. It had to be well over thirty degrees, maybe a few less in the shade. But still. They were both in real trouble if they didn't get fresh water soon. Man or beast, you could only go so long without it.

Ichigo worked his tongue around his mouth, thinking hard about bitter things like sour grapes and juicy lemons, anything to trick his mind into producing some saliva so that he could swallow without the sides of his throat sticking together.

The rush of warm air against his face brought him back to his surroundings. Zangetsu's long thick eyelashes fluttered over wide brown eyes as his friend tried to tell him they had to get going.

“Yeah. I know. Good boy, Zan.” Ichigo ran his hand down Zangetu's long snout and patted his muzzle before he grabbed the reigns that hung from the stallion's neck. Not that he needed to. Zan would follow him anywhere. He was more friend than beast.

A pull on the reign jerked Ichigo's arm back.

“Hey,” he complained, turning. “Cut it out, you dumb horse.” Ichigo frowned and gave the leather strap a countering tug, but Zangetsu was like a mountain. Ichigo sagged, eyes dark and tired. “What is your problem?”

The horse snorted and shook his head.

“We can't stay here,” Ichigo snapped, frustrated. “They'll find us.” He looked hard at his friend, all the weight of their predicament clear in his eyes. “And you know what they'll do when they find us.”

Zangetsu only shook his head, dust shaking from his mane as he did.

“It'll be quick for _you_.” Ichigo reached up and poked the horse in the forehead. It was dark but he meant it. Zangetsu let out a grumbling snort and stepped back.

Ichigo turned away, unwilling to dwell on his own fate any further. If he got caught, it was sealed. He took up the slack in the reigns and started forward, only to be yanked to a standstill for a second time. He twisted around, thirst and hunger tearing away at the last of his patience.

“I'm NOT kid...” Ichigo stopped mid sentence, wary brown eyes following the unexpected, sideways nod of the stallion's head.

Anger forgotten, his voice came out low, cautious. “What is it, Zan?”

Zangetsu was trying to tell him something. He studied the thick bushes to their left. Something seemed off.

He stepped closer, eyes scanning through the leaves, watching the trails of sun leak through to the open space behind. Then he realized what was off. There was space behind the bush. He reached out and took hold of a cluster of branches, and pulled at it. The whole thing moved.

“What the hell?” Ichigo set the large chunk of cut bush to the side, and stared at the thin trail that wended its way through the forest's underbrush. Ichigo was awed. “Somebody's living out here?”

A whinny came from behind him, the sound of agreement. Ichigo straightened, a thread of hope renewing his strength.

“Nice catch, Zan.” He grinned at his friend, who nodded back. He turned back towards the empty path.

“You think they're friendly?” Hot air blasted over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I doubt it too. If they're hiding themselves, they probably don't want to be found.”

He felt a tug on his shirt collar, and he stepped back to lay a soothing stroke down the side of his horse's long neck.

“Maybe we can trade labour for food.”

A hard nose nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah. I'm not sure how I feel about it either, but look at it this way. That trail slopes down. And what's down at the bottom of a valley?”

He asked as if he expected an answer from his beast, but he knew he wouldn't get one.

“Water, Zan. I haven't seen a way down to the valley yet, and if we don't find water soon...”

Zangetsu seemed consigned, ears flicking back and forth as the bugs began to find him in earnest as the dusk approached.

“You go in first.”

The stallions big brown eyes flicked sideways, and Ichigo sighed.

“..because I have to put the branches back in place, you dope. So no one follows us. Like I'd ever sacrifice you.”

Zangetsu let out a deep rumbling sound and ambled forward, his broad frame brushing the sides of the path as he disappeared into the shadows. Ichigo snapped a small branch from across the path they'd been on and scrubbed away the telltale signs of their movements in the dry earth.

Then he followed, swallowed up by the forest, the traces of their journey soon to be washed away by the coming storm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

They followed the path in silence, leaves and small twigs holding a brittle conversation beneath their feet, one that seemed far too loud to their sensitive ears.  
  
They were still on watch, as they had been for the weeks since their abrupt departure from their life. From their home. From their family.  
Every night Ichigo would sleep in short drifts, his senses too on edge and too brittle to let him rest for long. But when he did, he dreamt; of smiles, of meals, of conversations and daily chores. Of their small ranch at the end of town, and it's too tiny one room hospital.

He could see the tumbleweeds rolling by. Smell the hay. Hear his sister's laugh turn to a scream.  
  
He'd jolt awake each time, breathing hard and covered in sweat that he couldn't spare.

There was no home. No family. Not anymore.  
  
Ichigo turned his head and brushed another thick, leafy branch out of his way with his shoulder as they descended far too slowly into the valley below. Despite his growing wariness, and thirst, he didn't dare break any branches. He didn't risk damaging the foliage on this thin path, lest he meet up with the locals. Given their efforts to conceal their presence, he was sure they wouldn't take kindly to any trespassers, even less to any who showed disregard for their land and their privacy.  
  
The thick underbrush prevented him from seeing far ahead, assessing the terrain. The canopy above cut much of the light, allowing brief patches of sky and light to slip down between the leaves and reach the forest floor, where Ichigo and Zangetsu's feet caught often on roots and small rocks.  
  
Their steps were quicker now, less careful. They were losing light.  
  
The path sloped downwards, though. There was no doubt that. He could tell by the trees that grew here, and the subtle but growing dampness of the earth below his feet, that they were heading towards the bottom of the valley. Towards water.

Ichigo swallowed against a dry and sticky throat.

There was no doubt.

 

X X X

 

They walked for nearly an hour, the light leaving them faster as they descended into the valley. Ichigo's thirst was a true burn now. A dull ache had begun to drum inside his skull. The branches and leaves seemed to clutch at them harder, pulling at their skin, his clothes.  
  
Colours were washed away into greys and inky shades of black. He could still see the path though.  
  
There had actually been a few small openings in it along the way, clearings just large enough for them to bed for the night. And if they'd tucked close together, a small fire would have been safe.  
  
But he couldn't afford to stop.  
  
He was too warm. He'd been moving steadily. But he'd stopped sweating.

Ichigo had taken up the front, Zangetsu panting behind him, heavy horse breath blowing loud and hot just behind his nape. A comfort. And a worry.

Ichigo moved a heavy branch that slung itself across the path like a big lazy thing. And then he tripped. One of the endless damn roots had caught his foot, and he stumbled forwards. As he lost his footing, his grip went with it, and the branch in his hand snapped back at him, its ends whipping him in a sting across his front. It abraded his face and arms as he fell, barely catching himself on his hands and knees, cursing as he toppled and landed hard on the ground.

“Sonofabitch.” Ichigo's face pulled up from the dirt, eyes clenched shut in a grimace.

He coughed and tried to spit the dirt from his mouth in vain.  
  
Nothing to spit it out with.  
  
His head was banging harder now too, after the sudden drop and rise in blood pressure. He pushed himself to his knees, scrubbing the dirt from his mouth with his forearm.  
  
He blinked a few times, and looked up. To see nothing.  
  
No, not nothing. Just no more leaves in his face. His eyes widened, a burst of hope running through him.  
  
It was a clearing. He was out of the brush. It was nearly dark, but the moon had begun to rise, and he could see at least that much.

He was just beginning to try to rise, just beginning to feel something like relief, when a sound made him startle. Ichigo pushed himself back to his feet in a hurry. But he'd moved much too quickly, and the trees around him suddenly spun.  
  
A voice. The sound had been a voice. Close.

“Well now. You're far from home, ain'tcha?”  
  
The clearing spun away from him, and Ichigo hit the ground again, an endless darkness beyond the darkness swarming over his vision. He cursed internally. He was going to pass out. And he was helpless to do anything about it. He couldn’t do a thing to protect himself or Zangetsu but drop into darkness, chased by the last words he heard.  
  
“Now, what are we gonna do with you?”

 

**X X X**

 

He could hear sounds around him; shuffling of feet, voices. They were distant, meaningless. But one sound caught his attention and he strained for it.

Water. Splashing. A light refreshing sound.  
  
Something held him down, though it took no effort at all. He was so weak. So, thirsty.

Then something touched his lips. It was soft, heavy at first, enticing him. But most importantly, it was wet.

“Common now, son. Drink up.” Ichigo didn't need telling. It was automatic - even if his mind wasn't all there - to open his mouth, to reach for the drops of water that fell on his lips.  
  
“There we go. That's a good boy.”

He moaned when it was gone.

“Hush now. We'll get there.”  
  
The cloth was replaced, wrung out slowly over his mouth again, and he took every drop he could get, lifting his head to grab at the cloth with his teeth and pull every bit of water out of it, until it was taken away.

“Not too quick now. Or you'll be sick.”

He didn't know how long they kept it up, but at some point, he'd fallen back asleep.

 

**X X X**

 

He woke suddenly, panic clawing at his chest, mouth still too dry, screams and fire and dying all dragging at his senses as the world around him rushed in to replace it. A hand on his chest kept him down, his breathing ragged but beginning to slow.

“Ah, there there. Don't try to sit up just yet.”

Ichigo was just beginning to focus, beginning to take in the man in front of him, the room behind him. The bed beneath his back. No more trees, or roots or rocks. He was in a small cabin, windows on each side, a thick doorway ahead. He let himself fall slack against the sheets, watching the man turn away from him before turning back.

“Here. You'll be wanting more of this.” He held out a glass of water, not nearly the size Ichigo wanted, but it was a start.

He practically snatched it, though his arms felt buttery. The man reached around and lifted his head for him, and though he wanted to, Ichigo didn't protest. He cared more about water than anything in this world, and he pulled it down his throat in four quick gulps.

“It's good, yes?” The man smiled at him, eyes laughing. “Another?”

Ichigo nodded, and the glass was lifted from his hand. Something rushed through his mind, then and he jolted forward again, stomach roiling a little – like the man had said it would.  
  
“Zangetsu!” His voice was strained, a rasp catching on a dry cough.

“Your stallion. He's doing very well.” The man nodded down at him. “It was you we were worried about.”

Ichigo didn't try to speak again right away. Another glass of water was placed in his hand, no offer to lift his head this time. Take it slow was the message.

“You can see him in the morning, when you're on your feet.” Take it slow and stay in bed. Ichigo nodded back. But he had one question still.  
  
“How long?” he asked carefully, just a whisper this time.

“Have you been here? Two days. You're lucky we found you when we did.”

 

**X X X**

 

The sun was up and so was Ichigo. He'd been allowed to leave his room under Urahara's care for an hour yesterday. Long enough to see Zangetsu. The big simp was doing just fine. In fact, the stall he was in was downright cushy, full of food and water, and Zangetsu had been looking a tad too regal for Ichigo's liking. His horse had attitude to begin with. He didn't need any more.

They greeted with a fierce head rub though, both equally relieved to see that the other was alive and well.

He'd spent part of that hour with Zangetsu. And the other part taking in the town around him. It was breathtaking, especially when compared to Ichigo's home out on the plains, which was dry and hot, farmland and a lot of dust. Everything here was fresh and green, colours vivid and smells pleasant on the senses. He'd been told he'd slept through the storm, the one he'd been hoping for all that time.  
  
The town itself wasn't big. One single long street, lined by rows of buildings, all of it nestled amongst long grasses and rich farm plots. They were part way down a valley, a shelf of land their home. The clearing itself was expansive, and they were surrounded by trees and forest that sloped gently up one side, the way Ichigo had come. The other side, behind the trees, was a back drop of mountains.  
  
He was told that the bottom of the valley rested a little ways beyond the tree line. There was fresh, clean water at the foot of the mountains. Good swimming and good fishing. It was like some sort of dream life to Ichigo. Swimming holes were shallow and often muddy in the dry season, when you wanted it most. And fresh fish for dinner? He'd only had dried or smoked, and only on a few occasions. Men were more interested in cattle and pork where he'd lived.

Now, he was up again, yesterday's hour of exercise being enough for him at the time.

He was better after another night's rest. He still felt weak, but it was less from thirst now or hunger. He'd been hydrated and fed well. It was the weeks of constantly being on the move with little food or water than had finally caught up to him. He'd lost weight he hadn't even noticed. But now that he'd seen himself in a mirrored surface, he was a little shocked. His muscles had tightened down to an almost wiry look that he didn't like. Like when he'd been a teenager. He'd finally started to grow into himself and now it looked like he'd fallen back into the past. Except that he looked tired, and older somehow too.

He was healing though. Inside and out. The outside took care of itself, but it was the insides that needed tending to. He'd been told that by the man who'd spent the most time with him. Urahara was his name, and he'd noticed Ichigo's nightmares. They hadn't talked about it yet, or what had brought him here. Ichigo had tried, but nothing had come out. And why should it, when no one had believed him before.

He pulled his shirt on and ran a comb through his hair. It stuck itself right back up to where it liked to be, and he shrugged. It was bright orange. There was no hiding that. So, why not let it stand on end as much as it wanted to. That had always been his view of things like that. You couldn't hide different.

You sure could kick the neighbour kids asses when they made fun of you for it. But you couldn't hide it.

He stepped up to the mirror and glowered at his own reflection as he turned his head to check on one of his many fine scratches.  
  
He had a tree he'd like to find and turn to kindling.  
  
He'd noticed something odd when he'd risen earlier to clean himself up and dress. He'd been give a bath of warm water and some privacy, and he'd taken to ridding himself of the dirt and gunge that his caretakers had so politely saw fit not to touch.  
  
He wasn't too worse for wear after all of it. But there was one thing. A mark on his neck, at the side. Where the branches had caught him? It didn't look like scratches though, almost like, two small puncture holes. He frowned. Had he been bitten by a snake? Nobody had said anything about it, and he wasn't ill. So, nothing to worry about then. They'd heal up as good as the rest.

He smoothed out his shirt and turned towards the doorway. There was a knock just as he reached for it. Perfect timing. He pulled it open to bright sunlight and birds chirping, and one Urahara.

The sun was just up and Ichigo was always one to be up with it, often before it. He was used to that on his family's ranch. Chores often needed to be started before the day did. But Urahara had made a strange request of Ichigo the other day. He'd asked that Ichigo please remain inside his cabin until the sun had reached the town's centre. Not before.

“You're our guest. And those are our rules.” Ichigo's face must have told of his doubt, because Urahara had sighed and continued, offering very little more, but enough that Ichigo could accept it, for now.  
  
“The wildlife around here can be... unpredictable if you aren't familiar with it.”

They'd had breakfast first; fresh eggs, warm from the oven bread with a pat of fresh churned butter, slices of tomatoes with parsley, and a thick slice of ham. It was heavenly. It was also too bad Ichigo couldn't get used to this.  
  
The entire town was up by the time breakfast was served, and every time he looked up, he was being checked out. A group of kids peered through one of the windows of the town's small bar as Ichigo looked up from his meal, a piece of ham hanging from his mouth. They giggled and ran back out into the street when he nodded at them.

After breakfast, Urahara gave him another, more thorough tour, introducing him to the townsfolk as they walked, most of whom were busy with chores at this time of day. There was one building that stood out from the rest, nothing really different about it, except that it stood a bit further down than the other cabins. And nearby was a small rock outcropping. It jutted out of the ground, not quite looking like it belonged there, its centre bouldered over as if something were beneath it, a cave perhaps? Or an old abandoned well?  
  
“Is that a cave?” he'd asked. Urahara hesitated for a split second.  
  
“Just a small one. But it wasn't safe for kids to play around, so we covered it up.” Ichigo raised an eyebrow or two at that. Those were some damn big boulders to be moving around, even if you had machines and horses.  
  
“Wow,” he muttered as they continued by. “What's the building next to it?”  
  
“Hm? Just another home.”

“Huh. Why is it so much further out than the rest? It seems sort of out of place, you kno-?”  
  
Ichigo hadn't even finished his question when he suddenly felt like the air around him had dropped a few degrees, hairs rising in response along the back of his neck.  
  
“Damn.” Ichigo looked around to see if the trees were moving. They were not. “Where'd that cold wind come from?”  
  
Urahara seemed to stiffen too. Though he didn't seem to be shivering like Ichigo was.  
  
“Did you feel that?”  
  
Urahara looked at him blankly for a moment.  
  
“No. Now that's really all there is to the town. I'll take you to the water next.” And suddenly he was steering them away - a firm hand at Ichigo's back - from the small building, and leading Ichigo towards a wide and well used path that led down into the valley.  
  
The message was clear, though. Stay away from that building.  
  
He'd come back up from the water on his own an hour later. Urahara had his own chores to tend to. So Ichigo had been give some trust, which was weird because he was starting to feel even more creeped out as the day went on. Something about that house had stayed with him, as if someone inside it could see him down at the water's edge, even from all the way up there.

He followed the same wide path back into town, then turned in the other direction, into the fields beyond. He wanted to be alone for awhile. Perhaps he was just getting used to it, being on his own. With all these people around him, who felt so much like a large family, he was starting to feel less and less like he belonged here.

He stopped as he passed by that cabin. And he found himself staring at it for a long moment. He tilted his head slightly. A feeling was growing inside him. He wanted to walk right up to the door, throw it open and catch whoever was inside, in the middle of whatever they were doing. The sensation that whoever was inside, knew he was standing there grew exponentially.  
  
On the other hand, all he wanted to do was run and never look back at that house at all.  
  
He turned and kept on walking, quickly, giving the building a wide berth. He needed open air and sunlight.  
  
  
**X X X**  


“I see you found Wolf trail.” Ichigo jumped, nearly clearing the grass. He spun around and glared hard at the man who'd startled him. How had Urahara even gotten so close without Ichigo hearing?  
  
“Wolf trail?”  
  
“Yes. That's the path you were on. There are a few trails we use when we wish to visit with the outside world. That one, we only use during the day. But at night it belongs to the wolves.”  
  
Ichigo wasn't one to be afraid of the world. He grew up around animals, at ease with nature. But he visibly blanched. They may not go after a man, but Zangetsu, no matter how Ichigo thought of him, was not a man. An easy meal for a pack of dedicated wolves.  
  
“Oh, but you needn’t worry, young man. The wolves don't bother us here in town.”  
  
Ichigo made a small sound, a grunt of confusion; a question.  
  
“There are much worse things out there than wolves.” Ichigo's eyes studied the man's face, confused and frowning.  
  
Urahara stopped talking and smiled wanly. Oh. Ichigo wasn't really asking. And now he'd said too much. He sometimes had a way of doing that. Not that it happened that strangers fell into their midst very often. No. Not often at all. Even if the rarest ones stumbled onto a pathway than lead into their land, they never made it this far. The wolves got them first.

“You know. Big cats. Snakes and such.” He smiled again.  
  
Ichigo looked back at him, trying not to show how unconvinced he was.  
  
Something was off about the man, about this place, about that building.  
  
It was indeed beautiful. And everybody was smiles and kindness. So generous to him. He owed them.  
  
But he couldn't shake the feeling that the moment he left, they would all sigh in relief, as if they'd been using all of their energy to hide something big.  
  
Something almost right under his nose, had he known to look for it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 _Before he'd even allow them to begin to treat him, Grimmjow had pierced his skin, his concern for his people's safety far greater than any he might have for this stranger._  
  
It was his youth that had saved him. And a certain quality he seemed to possess, even in sleep.  
  
And the fact that Grimmjow hadn't found him first.  
  
His teeth were embedded like curved barbs, jaw locked around a strong, slender throat. Large hands dug into the bedding. He had to fight not to take any blood. He only wanted the memories. They flooded his mind, and in a moment he was hard. He liked this boy. He was strong and wild, a good and determined soul. He skimmed through his life for a few moments, enjoying the sensations he felt; of life and spirit, and family. But then, like a giant rushing wave, black and twisting, the memories turned; screams, fire, darkness, fear, hopelessness, loss. And anything good that Grimmjow had felt was ripped away by the torrent. His eyes flew open and he'd retracted his fangs quickly enough to leave a slight tear at the edge of the small punctures.

 _He was met with a room full of concerned eyes as he swiped away the blood that he'd taken onto his lips. He daren't swallow any. Despite the darkness he'd been left with, the smell of that blood was intoxicating. Far stronger than anything he would taste around here. He knew his eyes were glowing, his naked hunger pouring through. The men around him had stepped back, a reaction he didn't fault them for, even though they knew they should be safe._  
  
He was the strongest. The eldest. And by that token, the most disciplined. And he needed to be.

 _Grimmjow was panting from the wash of memories, even as his cold gaze met the men's. They wanted to know what he'd seen. What did he know of this stranger? But he couldn't explain it right now. It was too fresh. Too confusing. He felt unsteady._  
  
And he was suddenly far too hungry.

“ _He can't stay here.”_

 _His grating voice cut through their fear. It's finality shocked them slightly. Him too._  
__  
Was it for their safety, or was it to protect the boy from himself? He wasn't entirely sure why he'd said that.  
  
Grimmjow left the cabin, knowing the townsfolk would help the boy recover. It was one thing for Grimmjow to end an unlucky soul who came upon their village. It was another to end this life that they had already set their hearts on helping. He couldn't take that away from them. So, they would give him water, food, shelter. A place to rest.  
  
Then they would have to send him on his way.  
  
A few days. A few nights perhaps. He could handle that. The shock of that connection, and that sudden dangerous need, would fade.  
  
It would have to.

 _In the meantime Grimmjow would lay low, stay out of sight. They all would. No day walks until the stranger was gone. Their night time hunts would not change. If they did not feed, no one would truly be safe. Even Grimmjow's control would snap._  
  
Especially Grimmjow's.

It was close now. And that was three nights ago. And he'd hardly spent any time around the boy.  
  
_Just his entire life._  
  
“Fuck.”

Grimmjow's teeth throbbed, his mouth felt dry, and his stomach growled its deep displeasure. He tilted his head hard and cracked his neck in both directions, rolling his shoulders and breathing in a near growl as he approached one of the buildings on their secluded town's main street. Looking for a _sign_. Any would do.  
  
Night had finally fallen. Many of the buildings were dark. But a few were still lit. Some of the townspeople still ambled down the street, either heading for their local watering hole or heading home. Some were just out for the fresh night air. They watched him with cautious interest as he stalked past them. Aware of his agitation. And moving far out of his way.  
  
Grimmjow didn't care about any of that right now. He was looking for one thing. Not the thing he wanted most, but the closest he could get.  
  
He growled in anticipation when he saw it. There was a small square piece of wood nailed to the door. One word painted on it.  
  
_Boshu_  
  
Offering

Grimmjow pushed through the door and walked straight up the stairs, quick and soundless.  
  
Three women shared this home. He knew all of them well. He knew everyone well. He let his senses lead him to them. He could feel their body heat, see it through the walls, a dull glow that showed him the way.  
  
They would not _know_ that he was coming. Just that he _might_. If it was wanted, their offering to Grimmjow and the others was for the taking on this night.  
  
Each one of the women in this house had their own small room. He stopped at the first door and knocked only once. Just a courtesy. As they had done for him.  
  
“It's Grimmjow.”

The startled gasp was quiet, almost inaudible. But he heard it clearly. There was always that small jolt of fear, even after all this time.

He didn't wait for the door to open for him. He pushed through it and she stood frozen at the end of her bed, long nightgown covering her body down to her toes. She'd been in the middle of brushing her hair. He snarled at her.

“Strip.”

Her eyes were wide, but she did as he'd told her to without hesitation, putting the brush down, and pulling at the loose ties that held her gown closed, letting the garment fall from her shoulders until she was naked before him.

He was breathing hard, even though he was nearly motionless. His opalescent eyes fell to her breasts as they rose and fell, plump and full, then slipped to the slit between her thighs in one sweeping movement before landing back on her neck.  
  
Fixated there now. He was so hungry.

That boy.

He launched.

 

**X X X**

 

All three of them. All the women in that house had been bitten, ravished and filled, and nearly drained.

Urahara frowned as he left the house.

He'd stopped himself from going too far. But just barely.  
  
They were being taken care of now, in their home. It would be a couple of days before they'd be fully on their feet again, but with food and rest, they would be fine. The rest of the community would take care of their chores and see to their needs.

And they would let Grimmjow take them again after a time because... it didn't matter if you were a man or a woman, the experience, though frightening – especially when they lost control like that, rare though it was - it was a most... intense.. orgasmic sensation.

Unmatched.  
  
Unnatural.

Grimmjow hadn't been finished though. He'd needed more to slate his hunger than those women could possibly give. That obscene hunger had driven him into their farms, and onto to the nearest and closest thing he could find.

And they'd ended up with ham for breakfast.

Cooked fresh as the sun had risen, seared over a hot fire. Nothing left of Grimmjow to taint the meat so that it could not be eaten.

Urahara wondered what the following night would bring. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

The first two nights the stranger had been here, still unconscious, Grimmjow had fed twice in one night.  
  
The night before Ichigo's first short outing, he'd done the same. He'd even hunted after that.

And now this.

He was losing control. Night by night he was coming apart. Consuming more and more.  
  
But Urahara couldn't figure out why. What was it about this boy's presence that turned Grimmjow into this? He was by no means self restrained at the best of times. The others took their share quickly and calmly, soothing their prey into a pleasant panting high, and a near slumber when they finished.  
  
Grimmjow was not like the others. He was always animal, voracious, and potently sexual. But he held it back as much as he could for their sakes.  
  
He tamed his beast with his hunts. He was the one who kept the wolves at bay, the not-quite natural creatures that lived in the forest. _Their_ blood somehow becoming mixed within the wolves a hundred or more years ago. _Their_ reparations; to keep this village safe, and their own presence in this world nothing more than a scary bedtime story.

They did not destroy the wolves unless they earned it. They were unnaturally aggressive, bold enough to try for their livestock on many nights, despite Grimmjow's savage warnings. His dominance over the land, unquestionable.  
  
And it _was_ his land. This entire valley, his before a time anyone living here had ever known.  
  
But like Grimmjow and the others, and the villagers, the wolves had their place, their right to life as much as anything else. And over time, their bloodlines grew less tainted until eventually, one day, they would be nothing more than what they had once been.

Urahara paused before he knocked on the wooden door to the small cabin where the man of the hour was staying. The one who's name was whispered in hushed, careful tones by night, and shared throughout town by day.

It opened. The young man greeted him politely before he stepped out into the morning sunshine looking cleaner and healthier than he had just nights ago.  
  
And then they went to breakfast.

 

**X X X**

 

He couldn’t stay away from him after that.

He was shaking with the effort not to just lunge through the wall as he'd watched the kid stand outside his building, staring at it, at him, like he'd been put into a trance.  
  
He could see him through the walls, a bright light of heat and warmth. Even under the power of the sunlight. He shone terrible and bright. His heart pumped evenly, pushing warm blood throughout his body, it's luminescence concentrated in his core.

He licked at his teeth, his mouth hanging open as his breathing grew deep and unsteady. Panting.  
  
Watching.

And then the boy walked away. Was pushed away.

Grimmjow could smell frustration on him, and curiosity, and fear, and a want of sorts that he couldn't put his finger on.

His eyes glowed bright enough to bathe the dim room in front of him in a faint blue light.

He hardly noticed the doorway behind him open, the cool air from the tunnels to the cave beneath the house seeping out around his ankles.

“Grimmjow. Come to bed. Your hunger is just keeping everyone awake.” Grimmjow turned over his shoulder and snarled.  
  
“I don't wanna.” He turned back to the door, relieved and yet ticked that the boy had moved on. He folded his arms, refusing to look back again at the white haired being behind him.

“You're only torturing yourself, you know.” Grimmjow grunted.

“I don't care.”

“He'll be gone in a day or two.” The being at his back yawned and stretched extravagantly. “At least stop acting like a stalker until then. It's creepy.”  
  
He let out a low growl, an irritable warning.

“Go back to bed. Count sheep or somethin'.”

“I would...”, the other grumbled, cleaning out his ear with his finger, “but there won't be any left by the time you're done.”

Grimmjow's dark scowl followed after him, turning to a slow and withering glare until the door finally closed, the other's long, waggling tongue the last thing he wanted to see.  
  
He turned back to the wall, beside the covered window. It wasn't covered for his sake, but for theirs. He could go out if he really wanted to. Not today though. The sun was too strong today. It wouldn't hurt him terribly. It stung a little, but it would only leave superficial burns if he didn't stay out for too long. But the cloudy days, and the rainy days were the best.

 

**X X X**

 

Ichigo had just finished dinner with Urahara and a few of the other townsfolk. The food was excellent and the conversation fun and uplifting. He regretted having to excuse himself shortly after dessert. But he needed to take Zangetsu out for a walk before dusk, making sure everything about his steed was in top shape. Ready to go.  
  
He planned on leaving in the morning.

It had been peaceful down by the water. He'd skipped a few stones while Zangetsu drank deep. They'd run the edge of the lake along a smooth path, then retraced their steps.

He was just returning from the water with Zangetsu when the beast started to act up. They were taking the curve where the path met the main road, and that quietly disturbing cabin sat. The one next to the cave, or pile of rocks, or whatever it really was.

Either way, Zangetsu was uncomfortable. And he stopped at the curve, large hoofs backing up and leaving a dancing set of tracks in the dirt.

“Whoa, Zangetsu.” Ichigo pulled on the reigns, raising Zangetsu's head and reigning him in with a gentle pressure. He reached to stroke his companion's neck.  
  
“Calm down, buddy.” But his horse wasn't having it.  
  
He reared.  
  
“Whoa, Zan!” Once, twice, Ichigo clutching tight and leaning forward in an effort to stay mounted.  
  
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!!”

The third jump was higher, more wild than the rest, and in an instant Ichigo felt himself going. He yelled something unrepeatable as he fell right off of Zangetsu's broad back end, his horse's rough tail trailing up his face as he fell.  
  
Ichigo had managed to throw his weight forward at the last second. And as he slipped off Zangetsu's back, he came down mostly on his heels, knees buckling and arms windmilling. He fell back onto his ass first, then slammed neatly onto his back.  
  
Ichigo lay on his back a moment, wincing, winded, and staring up at the blue sky. As he caught the breath he'd lost, he moved everything that should be moving. Assessing. He grunted as he pushed himself up off his back, legs spread and palms flat in the dirt, glaring at the wrong end of his retreating horse.  
  
They always said there was no point in beating a dead horse. Right then, Ichigo was willing to test that theory.  
  
He growled as he looked himself over. Covered in dust, and a slight bruise or two. It could have been a lot worse.  
  
He craned his neck and looked around quickly, down both directions of the road and into the fields behind him. No one around. Ichigo gathered himself up. His pride was only slightly wounded because no one had seen. But he did that far more often than he'd like to admit. But that was only because Zangetsu was occasionally a real asshole. Like now.  
  
He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up, dark eyes finding his horse as he stood and turned himself back around.  
  
“Damn horse. The hell is wrong with you? You're a...”  
  
And of all the places for his idiot horse to freak out, it had to be in front of that stupid building.

Ichigo snapped his eyes back to the earth in front of him, ignoring the subtle jump in his heart rate. He tried to keep from looking at it as he went about dusting himself off, somehow afraid that if he did, he'd see someone or... something... staring back at him from behind darkened windows. He smacked at the dust on his ass and winced.  
  
“Ow! Sonofa goddam... Shit!” His momentary unease forgotten.  
  
His fingers slid over a spot and he felt a small rip in his pants. The fresh sting told him he'd managed to give himself a small abrasion. He was more angry than in pain. The sting would fade in a minute and it wouldn't even bruise. But it was always best to put some alcohol on things like that if there were some to spare. He could mend his pants while he was at it.  
  
He started to walk a little unevenly after Zangetsu. The horse was calmer now, but he'd started ambling away from his “master” and the site where he'd just ungraciously dumped Ichigo.  
  
“You stupid horse. Get back here! I'm gonna chop you up and use you for feed!”  
  
  
**X X X  
**

Grimmjow was at the doorway in an instant, breath coming out hot against the wood, forehead pressing just as hard against it, hair splayed above him.  
  
He wanted to get to him. To go to him.  
  
To check on him. Not kill him.

He may be _pacing_ like a wildcat trapped behind glass while an injured bird fluttered in front of it. But he _wasn't_ that.  
  
His jaw fell open, head turning this way and that, broad upper body swaying to the side. Back and forth.  
  
Ichigo was grimacing, dusting himself off, and cursing impressively too. But he wasn't injured. There wasn't any blood.  
  
He tilted his head back. Lifted his upper lip. Inhaled.  
  
He couldn't smell any... wait.  
  
There was a scratch. A small one. A scrape. His eyes darkened.  
  
A tiny.  
  
Little.  
  
Scrape.

Claws dragged down the frame of the door, deep and grating. Wood splintered out around them. Glowing eyes squeezed shut. A powerful jaw clenched.  
  
He let out a whine, high pitched and pained, breath hissing out through his teeth. Jaw so tight... _burning with ache_... that his eyes watered. His own blood thrumming so hard, so loud in his veins, it felt like his temples and the darkness behind his eyes were going to burst.  
  


X X X  
  
“Where's he gone, now? Is he at the window again?”  
  
“No. He's hunting.”  
  
“Now?! It's way too early for that, isn't it? Or is my sense of time off again.”  
  
“Heheh. That's was funny.”  
  
“Shut up! You guys are asses! Who does that shit to their own family?”  
  
“Yeah, well who falls for that, ya dummshit. What self respecting night creature can't tell when the sun's gone down?”  
  
“Oi! I have a condition! And that seriously hurt!”  
  
“Quit yer whining. It healed.”  
  
“Gentlemen....”  
  
“Tch! I hate it when ya say that. We ain't gentle. And we ain't men.”  
  
“Heheh. He's got a point.”  
  
“He's got two of 'em.”  
  
“Nah, nah. I saw this one here being gentle the other night... with his girrrl friend.”  
  
“She is not my girlfriend.”  
  
“She is if she's the only one yer visitin'.”  
  
“Yeah. Dude. It's been like three months. She's your girlfriend.”  
  
“Hm. I suppose.”  
  
“Nothing wrong with it.”  
  
“I think it's nice.”  
  
“Been a long time since I been with anyone that way.”  
  
“Someone's having a birthday next month.”  
  
“....What? Who? She is?”  
  
“Aaayup. I seen you looking at her. She'll be old enough.”  
  
“Hot damn. And don't none of you touch her, you hear? Or I swear I'll light you up.”  
  
“Would all you just shut the hell up and go back to sleep. Please?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

.....  
  
“Grimmjow's not looking too good, is he.”  
  
“No. It's that stranger.”  
  
“Ichigo, right? He is pretty cute, I guess.”  
  
“Doesn't do anything for me.”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
“Can't smell a thing.”  
  
“Grim sure can.”  
  
.....  
  
“He's getting unstable over him, isn't he.”  
  
“He is... handling it. As long as the boy leaves tomorrow...

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to fix up this chapter as some of the writing bothers me. I might have changed one line... then sagged and just posted it as it was.  
> This is the last chapter I originally posted on ffnet. Hopefully, soonish, there will be one or two more chapters to... come. And speaking of...  
> And does anyone get the direct Bleach reference near the start of this chapter? Common you gotta... XD

**Diggin' A Hole - BIG SUGAR** **  
  
****Got my head in a haze** **  
****Feel like a cat in a cage** **  
****I've been crying for days and I'm falling apart** **  
****Digging a hole in my heart** **  
****Give me the lies on page** **  
****Im' feelin twice my age** **  
****I've been crying for days and I'm falling apart** **  
****Digging a hole in my heart**

 

 **  
**He heard it start during the night. Well after midnight.  
  
 _That's_ what must have woken him.  
  
The rain.  
  
It was coming down heavy against the ground, drilling waves of water across the roof of his small cabin. A passing storm.

He sat up in his bed, thin single sheet falling away and spilling down feather light across his waist.  
  
He sat still and silent in the dark for a long cautious moment, eyes wide as they adjusted to the pitch black, gathering all the light they could. Which was hardly any light at all. His head tilted slightly, moving every now and then, following after every phantom trace of sound. Anything that didn't belong. His candle had burned down, and he wasn't trying to see as much as he was trying to listen.  
  
To everything but the rain.

It wasn't just the sound of the storm. Something _behind_ the heavy patter of falling water and rolling grumble of thunder had pulled him from sleep.  
  
Something _else_.  
  
He pulled the sheet down and across his thighs and slipped as silently as he could from the bed. He was naked, but the air was warmer than usual tonight, and the feel of it against his skin went unnoticed.

Bare feet made no noise on the wood floor. He moved carefully through the dark, pausing to take in the room around him as a bright but brief flash of lightening threw a patch of near daylight across the floor. It lit the room, casting dark shadows behind the mirror and beneath the dresser and bed.  
  
Just shadows.  
  
Nothing out of place.  
  
The thunder followed in a crack and a grumble. He waited for the sound to become distant, scanning the darkened room again for any scuff or scrape. There was nothing. No sounds that shouldn't be there. After a moment he turned back and stepped up to one of the windows. Long fingers resting on the wooden window frame, he leaned forward to look through the small square panels of glass.  
  
Another flash of lightening turned the outside to daylight.  
  
It lit up his part of the road, some trees, another building across the way. But aside from that, just the grayness of the rain filled his view. There was no sign of anything. And then...  
  
Just blackness again.

Thrown back into darkness, Ichigo turned away from the window and covered the few steps to his door by memory. He checked that it was closed properly, and locked. It was.  
  
He let out a long breath. He wasn't afraid of storms, but he felt unnaturally jittery. Perhaps he'd woken from another bad dream and just didn't realize it. Sure, it was normal to feel a little unnerved standing alone in the dark in a thunderstorm at gone midnight in a strange town so far off the beaten path that no one would ever hear you scream... But he had real world problems to be worried about. He certainly didn't have time to waste on monsters and ghosts.  
  
Maybe he'd light another candle. A small sense of comfort. He'd had one every night since he'd been here, and there was nothing wrong with that. He stilled as it occurred to him. He'd had a candle every night and they were each large enough to last to morning. He wondered suddenly, why had it gone out tonight?  
  
He turned towards his bed and felt his heart skitter. Lightening lit the room up again.

But there was nothing. Just his bed, a side table on either side, a small fireplace that hadn't been used in awhile, a dresser where he'd laid his clothes, and beside that, a slightly cloudy full length mirror.

Ichigo crossed the floor and sat on the bed. And then, on the whim of some long lost childhood instinct, he pulled his legs up quickly over the side. When he realized what he'd done, he tasked himself for it.  
  
He waited for another flicker of lightening before he reached over and found one of the matches which had been left for him on his side table. He struck it and held it to the wick of the candle, using its light as a guide, pausing as he did.  
  
The candle was burnt only half way down, its wick long and free of wax. No reason for it to have gone out.  
  
He shrugged the thought away and held the match close. It caught quickly, bathing the room in a soft yellow light, bringing shadows into motion as it flickered.  
  
Ichigo watched them dance eerily for a moment and frowned. Maybe he was better off without the candle.

He left it to burn anyway. He dragged the light cover back across his thighs and over his hips and fell back, his arm slung across his forehead. He needed to get some sleep. He'd be hitting the dusty trail again tomorrow. After breakfast. And after he'd done a few chores for the kind folks who'd been so generous to him. He'd done a couple of things yesterday to help out, but it just didn't seem enough for all the food and care he and Zangetsu had received.  
  
But then he'd head right out. And after the days he'd lost, he had no idea if he'd be ahead or behind whoever might be after him. Bounty hunters, no doubt. How many, he had no idea. How high the price for his life, he didn't even want to know.  
  
He closed his eyes. He'd rather sleep than think about that tonight.  
  
It took a few long moments, but he soon started to drift.  
  
A sudden harsh knock at the door had him ramrod straight and half way out of his bed before he even realized he'd moved.  
  
He stumbled the first few steps, heart beginning to pound in his chest as his body caught up with his senses and the surge of adrenaline began to kick in. Unused and making him shaky but more alert than he'd been a moment ago.

He rounded his bed, crossed the short space and unlocked the door. He didn't hesitate because at this time of the night, it must be important. Besides, monsters and wild animals didn't knock. It was probably Urahara. He turned the knob and pulled the door open, dark eyes set in a concerned scowl.  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
The rain hit in wet waves against the wooden floor just inside the doorway, cool on his feet.

Because there was no one there to break it's path.  
  
Just darkness and rain.

“Hello?” Ichigo shot his head out the door, looking this way then that to see if he could glimpse whoever had knocked on his door, but he pulled back quickly. It was coming down hard and there wasn't anything to see in the dark. Whoever it was, was gone.

He shut the door hard and turned the lock, nerves jangled but more angered about the stupidity of the whole thing. Who would knock on his door just to run away? And get him all wet in the process. The kids around town seemed well behaved, but who could say they didn't turn into little demons from hell after midnight and sneak out of their house to play pranks on unsuspecting visitors like Ichigo. Or it could have just been one of the locals after too many shots of bourbon. He hoped that wasn't the case. People could get belligerent when they were drunk. And he certainly didn't need any more problems with people.  
  
He turned from the door, eyes closed and whipping his fingers back and forth through his hair to dry it out, and...

...And, oh my god, he was naked. He'd answered the door without a stitch of clothing on.  
  
He opened his eyes at the realization.

And when he did, he froze. His heart may have even stopped working for a moment too.

There was man.

Standing in his room.  
  
Beside his bed.

Every muscle Ichigo owned snapped stiff. His body tensed for fight... or flight. Whatever was needed. He would have screamed immediately but his throat had tightened to a pinhole while his eyes went wide as saucers. But in the next instant, it all came rushing out in a choked gasp and a shaky curse.

“J-Jesus!” He stumbled back a step, throwing one arm across his chest, the other landing against the wall, feeling like his heart was suddenly trying to escape through his ribs. He stayed like that, panting, as he looked sideways at the man.  
  
“How did you....? Where...? There wasn't....” He finally straightened, the surge of shock and the complete irrationality of it all making him suddenly angry. And he only really wanted to know one thing anyway. He growled.  
  
“How the hell did you get in?”  
  
The man hadn't moved. Not a twitch. But when Ichigo demanded it of him, he tilted his head and answered simply.  
  
“Through the door.”  
  
His voice rolled, as deep and dark as the night around them. It washed over Ichigo like a chill and a wave before his senses jarred him back together. He gaped at the man, unmoving, still using the wall for support, for reassurance. What if this person was after him? He was large. Taller than Ichigo. He could use the wall as leverage if he needed it.  
  
His free hand curled into a fist, body tightening, hunching him forwards slightly as he stood his ground.  
  
“No, you didn't. There's no way. Don't bullshit me.”  
  
“You were half asleep.” Ichigo stiffened further, offended that he was being mocked and intruded upon. He straightened in defence.  
  
“I was not. I was wide awake!” He snapped at the man with conviction. “Don't try to tell me what I was or wasn't!” But doubt followed, immediate. He blinked and shook his head. Was he? Had he been so fresh from sleep that he'd lost a moment in time? As the thought struck him, he _felt_ almost clouded, not quite able to _think_ clearly.  
  
“Are you sure you're awake _now_?” Ichigo eyes snapped back to the intruder. Even though his mouth moved with the words, the stranger's smooth voice, ethereal and deep, seemed to bleed out of the darkness around him.  
  
“What?” Ichigo's face fell into a deep frown. “Yes? Of course I...” He grunted to himself, confused for a moment. Then he glared at the intruder with angry amber eyes. He didn't like mind games. And his sense of humour was less than agreeable at the moment.  
  
“What the hell are you doing in my cabin?” he growled.  
  
The man considered him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and an unnatural stillness about him that made Ichigo shiver slightly, even though the room was warm. He realized then, again, that he was without clothes, and the man's... _consideration_... had not kept itself to his face.  
  
He finally let go of the wall, folding his arms. For all the good it did. It was merely a defensive gesture. It was unfortunate that the candle was at the man's hip, almost behind him, while Ichigo was lit from the front. He felt himself heat, and not just in his cheeks. A tiny pulse of arousal reminded him of needs he'd neglected for far too long, of sensations he'd once felt on a night just like this. He grunted silently, wondering why in hell his thoughts had turned so suddenly when he could be in real danger.  
  
“I couldn't stay away.”  
  
It was just a whisper to Ichigo's ears. A vague notion inside his head, a distant _sound_ just outside his hearing. Had he thought it? He scowled all the harder at the intruder, sure he must have been the source of the unnerving commentary. Where else would it have come from?  
  
“What?” he snapped. Ichigo was entirely tense. He was just now taking in the man in front of him, as much as he could in the shadows. His folded arms, he knew, were a sad attempt at intimidation in light of his current position, especially when pitted against the larger, lithe form in front of him, with its muscular bulk and obvious strength. Perhaps the shadows that curved around his form played tricks, turning him more animal than man, something that hunted with cold grace in the night, even nights like this. Especially.  
  
The man finally moved, but it was only to hold out his hand.

“You dropped these.”  
  
Ichigo made a sound in his throat, the words, almost purred, making him feel like the stranger could hear his thoughts. The idea embarrassed him, though vaguely.  
  
“I... What?” Ichigo looked at his outstretched palm, but felt himself pulled back to the stranger's eyes, a hollow darkness in the shadows. Empty of light.  
  
“You fell off your horse.” He spoke slowly, smoothly. “And you dropped these.”  
  
Ichigo squinted, pieces of the puzzle that was this stranger's voice slowly floating together as if trapped in a thick liquid.

“I fell off... my... horse...”  
  
“Yes. Before dusk.” He nodded slowly. Moving his palm further down so it caught in the candle light where something glinted. He looked to it, then back to Ichigo. “You were riding your horse into the village. Zangetsu. He bucked you off.”

Ichigo eyed the man, giving him the same critical treatment he had just gotten, from head to shadowed toe, realizing as he did, between the brief catches of candlelight on the side of his face that weren't bathed in darkness, that he was well built, young, with hair that spiked and clawed, and a strong jaw. Quite possibly handsome, if Ichigo could get a real look at him.  
  
There was something else about him too. It niggled for a moment. Then he realized.

“You're not wet.”  
  
There was no water on his skin that Ichigo could see. His shirt appeared crisp and dry. His hair wasn't sagging at all. Even by candlelight, he could see it. That was all okay, but... his pants were dry too, down to the bottoms. They should be soaked in this storm.  
  
“I didn't have far to come.” It was a good enough answer, he supposed. He was just being hyper alert, mistrustful, ridiculous. What - did he think the man had been hiding in his fireplace all this time? Impossible.  
  
“But _you_ did.”  
  
The small comment snapped at Ichigo's attention. He hadn't explained to anyone... His pulse quickened, fears of being captured renewed at the words.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” he hissed.  
  
The man only tilted his head forward, to the side, then the other, slowly, taking him in at angles, almost hypnotic. Ichigo felt anxious before, but that strange movement... Now he felt hunted.

“You think I'm a bounty hunter.” Ichigo grunted in return, hands curled into fists, stomach in knots. “I'm not, though.” The man nodded slightly. “And my interest isn't in seeing you captured.” Ichigo eyed him critically, waiting for the punch line.  
  
“And I should believe you...” It wasn't until after the words had sunk in, that Ichigo felt his stomach do a nervous flip. He had an _interest_ in _something_ , though.  
  
“You should. I'm just a resident here. You can call me, Grimmjow.”  
  
“Okaay. Well then, Grimmjow... you have a home to go to, don't you.”  
  
“Heh. It's all my home.” He smirked as he answered, but it wasn't his lips that did it. It was in his eyes. The first glimmer of life in them at all. “And I had something I wanted to return to you.”  
  
Ichigo felt his own lip curl, his sense of urgency calming under the light of the stranger's claims, and he couldn't help but snort at the man. At Grimmjow.  
  
“You could have waited until tomorrow.”  
  
“I didn't want to miss you.” Ichigo felt himself shudder inside. This stranger felt it so important to see him that he'd barged in now? He noted, with unease, that the stranger still hadn't taken his eyes off of him. Not once. In fact, not once, Ichigo realized, had he even seen him blink.  
  
“You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you.” Ichigo felt his own jaw tightening. His own eyes darkening as he anticipated the line of questioning straying into territory he'd rather keep to himself.  
  
“That's the plan,” he said stiffly.  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
“Away from here.”  
  
The stranger's reply was silence. Long enough that Ichigo knew the other was waiting for more than that.  
  
“I don't really know,” he half mumbled, eyes still locked on the man.  
  
“We're a long way from anywhere.”  
  
“Then I guess I have a long way to go.”  
  
Grimmjow moved again, right arm sweeping down towards the side table, fingers running across its surface. Lightening flashed in a flicker as he did. Then again as he took a slow step forward... then two... It didn't look like the man had moved at all. He just appeared a little bit closer in between each beat of light.  
  
Ichigo's insides did an unhappy turn at the sight, something _unnatural_ and _wrong_. Was it a trick of the light, or.. ? He kept his distance, his own movements slow, wary, keeping him in line with the much larger male. And closer to the door. Even though his questions were innocent enough, nothing truly threatening about them, he exuded something entirely too unpredictable for Ichigo's comfort. He was here for a reason. Ichigo just didn't know what.  
  
There was also, of course, the fact that Ichigo was, and had been since their encounter began, completely naked.

Grimmjow raised his hand, and something caught in the candle light. He had picked up one of the small round metal discs that Ichigo had placed on his bedside table earlier. The same things Grimmjow said he had brought to him to return. Though, for all Ichigo knew, he could have just picked them up from the table.  
  
“What are they?” he rumbled, holding his hand up to his own face and flipping the coin smoothly back and forth between the backs of curled fingers as if it were a skill he'd been practising for years.  
  
Ichigo forgot his anger for a moment, though he still clung to his unease. He looked at the stranger like he'd lost his marbles, then remembered where they both were. This isolated community. It didn't seem to be in contact much with the outside world. They lived off the land. They were skilled in trades. They seemed to have just about everything they needed. He thought about it, and realized that even while in the local restaurant, he hadn't seen any currency since he'd been here.  
  
He wondered, was anyone anywhere even aware of its existence?  
  
“It's money.” Grimmjow caught the coin as it became upright and studied it for a second, his focus finally turning past it and back onto Ichigo.  
  
“Doesn't look like any money I've seen.”  
  
“Well, it's pretty current. What? Don't you use money here? What do you do, barter?”  
  
“No.” Grimmjow turned and gently placed the coin back on the table with the others. He turned back. “We're independent. But, yeah. You could say... we barter.”  
  
He grinned. And it was sheet ice in Ichigo's veins.

Not just from the way the man's eyes took on an unhealthy insane look when he did that, and not just because of the rows of teeth - notably the two enlarged canine type teeth – that flashed when he did that, but because Ichigo found that insanity oddly exhilarating. He felt like he'd seen it before, or felt it before, or .. just something about this man, Grimmjow, felt suddenly familiar, and dangerous, and electric. Like an old memory resurfacing.  
  
Ichigo swallowed hard against his body's reactions. He needed this man to leave. Things were starting to heat up in ways that were embarrassing. Even though they shouldn't be. Especially because they shouldn't be.  
  
He sucked it all back, and pushed it all down, throwing a hand into the air, wrist waving the stranger - because he _was_ a stranger - onward and out of his private space. His head dropped forward as he motioned and tried as casually as he could to dismiss this Grimmjow.

“Look, it was really nice of you to barge in on me, in a rainstorm, in the middle of the night, while I was sleeping, to return my stuff... but you really need to ...” He looked up.  
  
“...go?...”

Empty space.  
  
“What the...?”  
  
Ichigo spun around.  
  
“Hello?....”  
  
He turned again a few more times, even bending over to glance at the floor beside the bed. Then he just stood there. Confused as shit. This was ridiculous. His cabin was a single room, and that room was no more than twenty square feet. There was nothing to hide in or under. Even the bed, he remembered, was low to the ground. There was no room for a man under it.  
  
Grimmjow had vanished just as quickly and impossibly as he'd appeared.

He made a beeline for the door, hand grasping the latch, shaking it, checking that it was closed. And about to lock it.  
  
It already was.  
  
He felt himself sag. What in the _fuck_ was that?  
  
Was there some sort of secret entrance to this cabin that Ichigo wasn't aware of? It made sense that there could be, that they would put him, an injured stranger on the lamb, in a building with extra security precautions so they could keep a close eye on him.

But really? Send a guy into his room in the middle of the night under the pretence that he'd dropped some money? Wake him from a deep sleep, just to ask him... Ichigo's hand rubbed at the back of his head, the other going to his waist.  
  
And what _had_ he asked him?  
  
Where he was going.  
  
Ichigo hadn't given an answer, nothing definite. It was the truth, sort of. He didn't know where he was headed exactly. He just knew there were cities in that direction, if he travelled far enough. He would blend in. He would have to. Assume a different identity. (Cut his hair stupidly short being first on that list. Nothing like a pile of orange spikes to announce yourself to the world. His wanted poster may be in black and white, but it didn't take much imagination to fill in the coloured blanks.)  
  
And that's all the man had really asked of him. Other than that... he'd just stared. And yeah, Ichigo had stood there being stared at the whole time, completely exposed, and having a conversation with a large and intimidating prowler in the half darkness of his bedroom. By candlelight. Not the romance Ichigo had envisioned for himself in the future, if he even had one.  
  
Ichigo sagged a little, arm still raised and now squeezing at the back of his neck as he attempted to relax himself.  
  
He fell on the bed on his ass, too tired to think it over any more. Tired and... stirring. His groin was heating up, and he was only now taking full notice of it, though it had been there to some degree for longer than he felt was right.  
  
It was a feeling he had only had a few times since he'd left home. Not at all the past few days. His body couldn't afford it. But now, nursed back to full health and feeling almost – aside from his very strange midnight visitor – safe, his libido had taken a moment to offer him a chance at something... pleasurable.  
  
He turned and fell onto his back.  
  
Maybe it was just the rush of it all, being cornered in the middle of the night, and then inexplicably alone again... but Ichigo felt a surge of need. And he knew he wasn't going to fall asleep easily after _whatever that was._

If he didn't want to spent the rest of the night staring into a dark, sloped ceiling, then this was his best bet towards getting some sleep.

He closed his eyes, better to imagine a body over him touching him and massaging his dick, than just the short, quick passage of his own hand. The figure that came straight to mind was a shock. He'd expected his old partner, his only partner. But no. That stranger, Grimmjow, was looking down at him, caging him in with well developed legs and strong thick arms, and abs that showed strength and virility.  
  
Grimmjow hovering over him as he grasped his growing erection.  
  
Ichigo opened his eyes, the image too stark for something that he'd conjured up in his mind.  
  
When he _did_ , the image was still there.

Shit.  
  
Ichigo tensed, his own hand numb on his dick as his brain wound to a stop.  
  
He knew he wasn't real. That he wasn't really there, on top of him, that mildly deranged look of hunger - of sexual appetite - studying his face intently.  
  
Ichigo closed his eyes again, using his other senses to come to a conclusion. He couldn't feel the man's weight on the bed. It should have moved under Grimmjow's weight. It hadn't, though.  
  
The thought relaxed him.

He had to have fallen asleep. Or perhaps, _perhaps_ he'd never really woken up in the first place. It had seemed so real but... He opened his eyes slightly, almost afraid that the dream image would still be there, almost more afraid that he'd be gone.  
  
And then it spoke. Grimmjow spoke. Quietly. A gentle growl. But the eyes, his eyes, cold and blackened... something ravenous swarmed behind them, held at bay by the man, for Ichigo's sake perhaps...  
  
“I couldn't stay away.” Grimmjow's image leaned forward as Ichigo's eyes flew open. Warm lips, warmer breath, skimmed across Ichigo's mouth, tongue dipping against his lower lip. It all mounted into a searing kiss and Ichigo couldn't help the wanting sound that ground from his throat and curled between them.  
  
“I can't wait any more.” Ichigo opened his mouth to catch his breath, that rumbling voice and that fire-starting kiss bringing him to hardness in an instant.  
  
“Turn over.”  
  
Ichigo didn't question it. Apparently this very lucid dream didn't involve foreplay. And that was exactly the way Ichigo wanted it. He sure as hell didn't need it. He just needed release.

The dream image lifted onto its knees and slid off the bed. Ichigo rolled onto his front. This was a damn good dream, and he was going to go with it.  
  
He spread his legs wide, _imagining_. Thinking already about the heavy, blunt erection that would soon be pushing at his entrance. Hard, thick, and ready.  
  
Ichigo turned to look at Grimmjow, to see what his dream lover would look like naked.  
  
But there was no one there.  
  
He sighed. He was so wildly turned on that he felt almost feverish, and his perfect wet dream had gone and vanished. Again.  
  
God, he wanted to feel that again. He was young, but not naive to the ways in which men pleasured men. He'd met another, a summer ago. He was passing through town. And he'd befriended Ichigo only days after his arrival. They'd been introduced. Shaken hands. There were words in that handshake, in the look that passed between them, an understanding and a promise. They'd felt each other out for a few days, acted normal. A show for the townsfolk. Then they'd found themselves a way to be alone. Three months passed and they'd said goodbyes. One last fuck, and boy it had been good, before a final nod. Ichigo hadn't felt anything. He missed the sex, the passion they'd shared, but they both knew where they stood. He only hoped he could find that with someone else some day. And without getting killed for it.  
  
The memory of that hardness that he knew, how it pressed against him, rushed forward. And suddenly, he could feel the weight of that body as well. So real.

Too real.

He turned his head and opened his eyes, started to move his arms. But strong hands slid up and along them quickly, catching his fists, and curling around them. Pinning him.

“Shit!”

“Shhh. It's just us.”  
  
“You were gone?!” Ichigo snapped awake, or he thought he did. Was is possible to wake up inside a dream?  
  
“I am. You're dreaming.” He stopped moving, brows vexed in confusion before slowly slacking in acceptance.  
  
“I am?”  
  
“You are.”  
  
He was. Still just dreaming.  
  
“I want you. And you want me. So, relax. And just let it happen.”  
  
The weight wasn't as heavy as it should be. In fact, it seemed to come and go, lifting away then pressing him down again, as if his mind couldn’t keep the sensations as realistic as they were in life. He felt his whole body relax. Even his insides seemed to loosen, his hole twitching and opening with interest as his mind quickly drifted again to the feel of being entered and filled. Fucked.  
  
He hummed in pleasure as Grimmjow's hands found his backside, grabbing it and bunching it up as he pushed them forward before sliding up his back, fingers and palms working deep into his muscles.  
  
“Mmmm. S'nice,” he murmured into the crook of his elbow as he lay with his head to the side, eyes closed, just taking in and enjoying any sensation he could conjure up.  
  
“You're beautiful,” Grimmjow growled. His voice husked behind Ichigo's ear, Grimmjow's nose nuzzling the hair on the back of his head, and working its way down his neck and into to the curve of his shoulder. He gave a nip and Ichigo gasped. It hurt, but it sent electricity to his trapped erection. It pulsed in pleasure beneath the weight of his own body. He moved his hips, digging into the bed, working with the throb.  
  
“Yeah. Fuck.” Grimmjow cursed behind him, exciting by Ichigo's eagerness. “You want me to fuck you.” It was hardly a question, and it hardly needed an answer. This was a sex dream after all. And being fucked was its whole reason for existing.  
  
The next feeling he was aware of drown out everything else. Hot hardness pressed against him. And then it pushed. He opened himself to it, willing, legs limp and spread out across the bed, ass parted wide by strong thumbs. It throbbed, his insides too, as Grimmjow's thick member slid into him, slowly and evenly, every growing inch of it pushing him further and further apart.  
  
“Fuuuck.” He nearly whimpered. “So big.” He nearly whined.  
  
The _sound_ that came then from behind him put goosebumps across his flesh. A deep growl. Animalistic. Unearthly.  
  
And then that long, wide cock was pulling out. Dragging. To the tip. A just as suddenly, it drove back in.

Ichigo groaned out as the man on top of him started a rhythm that rocked him back and forth each time .

Nothing slow. Nothing loving. Just instinct. Unrestrained fucking. Growing in tempo. Slick slippery cock plunging in and out and in and out, Grimmjow's hips hitting Ichigo's soft backside over and over like a wet whip slap.  
  
He couldn't help it. He cried out, nearly screamed, when his climax hit him, his dick stiffening beneath him as he erupted in waves beneath his own body, heat and damp completely unfelt as that long cock rocked into him a dozen more times. He felt the heat then. The explosion of warmth deep inside him as it stilled, pumping him full of the stranger's semen. Grimmjow's hips snapped one more time, pressed in hard, his skin plastered wet and hot against Ichigo's, each fresh hot pulse of his cock driving his seed deeper.  
  
Ichigo moaned like a cry as he took it all in. Then he collapsed. Awed. Exhausted. Fucked. And sated.

He grunted as the filling pressure of his dream lover's still rigid length was drawn slowly out of him. Nothing in there now.  
  
He felt the weight lift away too, dissipate, leaving him politely to the deep sleep that waited.  
  
He was out in moments.

X X X

The rain beat down in waves against his curved shoulders, against his back, and against his arms. His hair lay limp, wet from the downpour, rivulets running down his face. His body was soaked to the skin.  
  
But he didn't notice it at all.  
  
He couldn't. He wasn't really there.  
  
He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, feet planted and holding him in place where he perched high on the deeply sloped roof of the building on the other side of the road.  
  
Another flash of lightening lit the darkness before thunder rocked the air around him.

He didn't move.

Eyes so blown and black that they showed no emotion at all - soulless - stared at the window of the cabin below, across the street.  
  
Through it.  
  
That boy. He lit up the room, his body like sunlight inside it. He moved his hips, all of his heat flowing there, brightly grinding himself into the bed. Grimmjow could hear his breaths, rushed and reckless, hear his heart beating wildly, feel his heat around him. And when the boy... when Ichigo came hard and cried out... it sent Grimmjow hurtling along with him. Spending himself deep inside.

Water ran down the tiles of the roof in waves, smoothing it back over in smooth sheets of rain.

Nothing there to stop it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

“I really appreciate your hospitality.”

They walked in stride along the road towards the centre of town, the sun's rays sliding between the cracks in a hundred years of old growth forest which surrounded the town, turning the distant sky and rutted ground before them a blend of yellow and orange where it found its way through. Ichigo watched the sky. The birds were up and singing around them as they walked.

It was beautiful.

It was peaceful.

“But you really must go.”

Ichigo smiled fondly at the man who had been so kind to him these past few days.

“Yes. Probably right after breakfast.” A few more steps found Ichigo correcting himself for sounding like he was going to eat and run. “I mean, I wouldn't want to bring trouble to your town.”

Urahara knew the gist of it. What _kind_ of trouble Ichigo had on his tail. And just how far he'd have to run to escape it.

“Oh, well...” Urahara's smile was bright, and as he chuckled it only reinforced the constant feeling that Ichigo was really not quite _in_ on the big joke. “We're quite well acquainted with trouble.”

They didn't seem to be. And bounty hunters, if they found him here... The townsfolk would try to protect him. And Ichigo didn't want to be responsible for what might happen to the nice people who lived here.

“But of course I understand if you want to be on your way.” Urahara gave him a single heavy squeeze on the top of his shoulder. “I will worry about you though... if you don't mind.”

“I can handle myself alright,” he replied with a surge of indignant defiance, mustering all the manliness he could to sound convincing, but not really convincing either of them in the end. Could he? Handle himself? How he'd ended up here didn't really suggest that. But he needed Urahara to believe he would be alright. He could see that the man's concern was genuine. Best to leave him with the thought that the one they had saved would one day be free and living the life they hoped he would. Not bound and hung from a rope and left for the birds to peck at after a long lonely drop.

“I know you can.” Urahara tipped his hat with a nearly elegant touch of his finger and thumb, though his smile this time didn't impress. Ichigo nodded. There was nothing left to say.

The smell of breakfast hit them in the richest way as they approached the watering hole at the centre of town. Ichigo knew what to expect now.

Baked beans, eggs, bacon, ham, potatoes, fruit, coffee... Ichigo's stomach vibrated with aspirations of gorging. Urahara had already demanded it of him _and_ insisted that they'd load him up with enough supplies to see him through several days before he left. Ichigo was selfishly happy to oblige.

God, it was heavenly. And Ichigo felt his feet pick up to follow the lead of his stomach. He'd need a good solid breakfast to get him through the day. He'd extend his supplies as long as he could because after that he'd be back to picking through plants and catching small creatures. If he could catch them.

The restaurant was already filling up when they pushed through the saloon style doors, the murmur of voices, the clatter of silverware, and the ubiquitous smell of fresh coffee making Ichigo feel like the long road ahead was even longer.  
  
And lonelier.

He'd have called it a saloon back home, but it definitely didn't have that feel to it. The people didn't seem to drink much here if at all from what Urahara had said. No. It felt more like a dining hall, a hub for social gathering and feasting together.

Several townsfolk smiled at him and bid him good morning. He nodded back and looked out over the room, more than a few faces vaguely familiar now from his short stay.

He followed Urahara to the serving station, no money required. They used trade and hard work to keep the gears of their tiny town running smoothly. Everybody did their part. Everybody had enough.

Nirvana, some might have said.

Except, as Ichigo filled the last clean spot on his plate with golden fried hash browns, he flinched, a few small spuds falling to the floor in waste.  
  
He couldn't have helped it. Something had caught his eye. Something so impossible that it sent a jolt through him that he could not control.

He only noted it vaguely when Urahara called his name, tapping once on his arm to direct him to the far end of the room where empty seats awaited.

But Ichigo's body and eyes stayed fixed.

Transfixed.

There. In the crowd.

Sitting alone. A man. Older but still young. His body, large and built in a sinful design, his lower half hidden away by the table he was at.

And blue.

Eyes sharp and destructive and watching him right back.

Not looking at him like he was as curious stranger. More like... he knew him.

And he couldn't. Unless...

Ichigo was across the floor and weaving around the four small round tables full of onlookers in his path before he even thought about what he was doing. Or what he was going to say.

They had hardly taken eyes off each other right up until Ichigo reached his table and then just... hovered, staring down in wonder and growing horror at the man he _thought_ he'd dreamed up last night. He'd even told Ichigo his name. Hadn't he? What was it?

The man's voice rolled over Ichigo and through him when he finally spoke. Because Ichigo was just staring. Thinking. Forgetting everything that had just rushed through his head on his way to confront him because... symmetry. He was beautiful up this close. Under the touch of daylight. Intelligent eyes, thick muscles, smooth skin on an angular face. And so bright. Everything about him designed to pull a person in, to devour them if they dared. In that way that nature only creates it's most lethal of creatures.

“C'n I help you?” Ichigo put his plate down on the edge of the table before he could drop it, a small tremor running through his hands like he had been threatened. Or maybe he was just afraid of what he was going to hear.

“Have we... met?” Ichigo had never felt so scrutinized, hesitant, as the man looked him over once, only his eyes flickering.

“Doubt it.” But his need to know overrode the feeling.

“I saw you.”

The bluenet's eyes drooped back at him in a facade of indifference.

“Did'ja.”

Ichigo's pulse had picked up to a nifty pace, and he was starting to feel... less sure of himself as the seconds ticked by... maybe a little... floaty.

“You were in my cabin...” Ichigo blurted. Was he asking, or was he telling? Or was he accusing? He couldn't be sure of his own memories right now. Not with those cutting blue eyes studying him like they knew him, but denying him like they'd never tell.

A single eyebrow arched, but the calculation stayed firmly in place.

“Hn. Was I, now.”

Ichigo didn't know if he felt angrier or completely deflated as he studied the man he was basically accosting in public. Who's name he still couldn't remember. He wasn't getting any answers. Just deflection, and he couldn't make any more of a scene than he already was. Well he could, but if he did, his instincts said it would hardly help. Something about him was so very different from everyone else he'd seen in town. The blue hair was a big start. But this stranger reeked of things less sociable and more black-underbelly of the town. The thought reminded him of just what he may have done with this stranger in the middle of the night.

“Last night. It was you,” Ichigo snapped as irritation quickly overcame hesitation, making his voice sound very indignant, even to his own ears. “You broke in.”

The man on the other side of the table stretched himself out as he leaned back into his chair, giving Ichigo a long narrowed look, one heavy arm laying across it still, holding claim to his territory.

“Sounds like you have a very active imagination... new blood.”

Ichigo drew back after a moment of being silently, cooly watched by the strange man he was accosting, noticing, really noticing, finally, that all the townsfolk were watching them both in careful silence. Kind of looking like they were ready to leave in a rush, actually...

Maybe. Maybe he did.

No. Wait.

Ichigo dug into his pocket and pulled out the coins he'd had when he'd come here. The ones he'd dropped. He opened his palm so the man with the wild blue hair could see.

The very same ones this character had returned to him in the dead of night.

In his room

And then...

They'd...

Oh god.

Ichigo felt his skin lose some of its heat as his blood retreated to safety, somewhere deep inside his core.

“That really wasn't a dream...”

The man tilted his head, the slightest grin ghosting against the corner of his mouth. A little playful. A little mean.

“Sure it was.”

Holy shit?

"No,” the ginger snapped, backing up a step, giving himself room to think, to put the pieces together. Goddamn, his head was fuzzy. This conversation should have been private. It was dangerous to speak of what they'd done. “You returned these.” He thrust his palm forward, reaching out over the table, feet moving him closer again. “How the hell else would I have them?”

He was raising his voice in spite of drawing himself into the spotlight and acting a heathen under their hospitality. He had quite a temper when provoked. But this man had done nothing but return some coins and give Ichigo wet dreams. Right?

The blue-haired man seemed a little surprised at his gall, shoulders tensing as Ichigo thrust his hand out and hovered over him, before he realized that Ichigo didn't intend anything more than that.

“Okay,” he rumbled slowly, nodding up at the fiery red-head, who was nearly on top of him now. “You got me. I did stop in to return your coins. I handed them to you at your door. You were pretty tired. I should've waited 'till morning, I guess,” he shrugged.

Ichigo was speechless. He'd no argument left. And he was starting to feel a little stupid. Still confused. And now stupid.

And uh... he looked up at the people around him with a slow turn of his head in both directions. He straightened himself, fisting the coins. Embarrassment spreading like fire over his skin.

He jolted at the piercing screech of wood sliding along wood, attention snapping back to the blue haired man as he rose. To his full height. Several long inches above Ichigo, he noticed with a flush. He was tall, and his short sleeve shirt showed arms that were forged from many hard day's work of heavy lifting and wood splitting... and just about any other physical thing that could be thrown at him, Ichigo hedged.

“I apologize, Ichigo. It's no way to treat a guest.” He said it calmly, but that grin was still hiding there, behind the calm mask, making Ichigo itch inside. He was never very good at being mocked or threatened. And this stranger was doing at least one of those things.

Ichigo could have let it go. Try to be the good guest that he was. But the man had to push a little further, didn't he. The bluenet stepped around him, enough room between tables that he didn't need to touch him. But he did.

“Name's Grimmjow.” Stopping by his side, the stranger – _Grimmjow. That was his name_ \-- leaned into him, warm breath sudden against Ichigo's ear, roughened growl just loud enough and rough enough for Ichigo to feel it reverberate down through his shoulders and into his chest. “And thanks for paying me back.”

Ichigo stiffened as the implication set in.

Grimmjow.. He knew... what happened... afterwards. But... that part really was a dream. Wasn't it? Of course it was, but... Ichigo could tell a good dream from the real thing, God dammit!

A panic-fed burst of anger came out of nowhere that Ichigo could call a good place, and without another word between them he hooked Grimmjow's ankle with his left foot. And in the same dirty move, he shoved into the solid core of his body just as hard as he could. Because somehow, he knew he had to.

Blindsided, Grimmjow went down, taking a chair with him as he crash landed with a hard ka-thud onto the floor, a small plume of boot-tread dust rising from the well trampled wood.

Grimmjow gaped up at Ichigo in pure shock. As did every single person in the restaurant. A few utensils clattered, while some hung forgotten in the air. Grimmjow and every one around him looked like the sun had just fallen out of the sky and landed in a tiny fiery ball at his feet.

Ichigo took his eyes off the body at his feet just long enough to flit again to the astonished crowd. But when he looked back... there wasn't a body at all.

Ichigo gaped. No.

No. No. No. It wasn't possible.

He'd hardly taken his eyes off him. There was only once entrance. He couldn't have left without Ichigo seeing him go. And he knew he hadn't blacked out. He was sure of it. He was sure...

He was losing it.

“Ichigo?...” The voice was Urahara's, rich with concern. “Are you okay?” The floaty feeling had lifted, leaving him instead with a returning sense of unease. That the world, this world, wasn't right somehow. Not playing by the rules he knew.

“Where'd he go?” he asked stiffly. Urahara answered simply.

“He left, Ichigo.”

“But I didn't see him...” He pointed to the floor. “He was _right_ _there_.”

“Yes. And he left. We all watched him go.” Bullshit, whispered Ichigo's brain.

“He couldn't have just...”

“You look a little pale, Ichigo.” He felt pale. The room seemed to come back to life like a switch, sounds of murmuring and scraping plates resuming. Ichigo stood and stared at the whole damn room until Urahara picked up Ichigo's plate for him and held out an arm to guide him to another table. “Why don't we sit and have something to eat, hmm?”

**X X X**

He was going to kill him.

Or at least attack him.

It was reflex. Emotional. Animal. He'd been _challenged_.

He'd couldn't say he'd never been attacked by a human before, because that'd be a big fat lie. There had been many a misguided stray come busting into his territory, thinking they could challenge the townspeople for their hard earned space. And every single fuckin' one of them had been ended in a bloody mess.

Whether by Grimmjow or his clan, or by the wolves he'd allowed to set on them.

Grimmjow growled. Freshly out of his den. He hadn't slept. He'd just paced underground while the sun shone on the town and on the orange haired brat until Urahara had come to talk him down.

The oranget had struck him.

And if Grimmjow's blood was boiling to strike him back one ounce...

He'd left. In a hurry and real quick. Used his power to move faster than the human eyes around him could track.

Because he was strong enough to make that snap decision after so many hundreds of years of learning to control himself when his animal was at its closest to the surface. At its most untamed and scratching in rage to be free.

Ichigo did seem to have that affect on him.

The fuck.

The absolute... Grimmjow took in a huge breath of crisp night air that he didn't vitally need. But the feel of it always did great things. Always calmed him down. Kept him balanced between death and life, monster and human.  
  
He perched on the apex of the roof of the building that housed his clan, dusk and the crickets enjoying each other as companions as the night set in, the swarms of mosquitoes brushing past him but never landing on his skin. Not even once.

No blood from which to draw life. Nothing to be found there but death.

 


End file.
